


one hundred percent

by childofthenight2035



Series: Put Your Glasses On [32]
Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Emotional Hurt, Homophobia, M/M, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 23:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30096834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childofthenight2035/pseuds/childofthenight2035
Summary: *bangs fist on table**stands up on chair**gets everyone's attention*"I just want everyone here to know, I'm fucking gay."-In which Youngjae confronts his father with the matter of one Park Jinyoung.
Relationships: Choi Youngjae/Jeon Wonwoo, Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung
Series: Put Your Glasses On [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685593
Comments: 16
Kudos: 42





	one hundred percent

**Author's Note:**

> as always, this is choi youngjae, the college student, NOT yoo youngjae, the music producer and jb's best friend
> 
> this is set before 'benumbed', i just thought i should have youngjae let off some steam

Youngjae is _fuming_. 

How dare he? How _dare_ his father try to fire someone for this? 

He’s known. Of course he has. He’s always known that his father is a prejudiced son of a bitch, knows that he’s homophobic, overheard that he would “fire the faggot” working for him—he didn’t think the man would _actually_ do it! Isn’t that grounds for discrimination? He could be sued for this, couldn’t he? 

And it’s _Jinyoung hyung?_ What are the fucking chances that it would end up being someone he’s met before? 

A freaking _preschool teacher!_ Couldn’t they just let the man live?

He doesn’t know why he’s filled with so much rage for a man he hardly knows about. Solidarity, he supposes. He’s turning heads on the bus, he must look like he’s on his way to murder someone. 

He schools his expression, calms himself before people grow too wary of him. 

He hardly knows how he gets to his father’s office building, with his mind clouded over. The receptionist smiles at him and waves him along, doesn’t even bother stopping him. Once in the elevator, he sags against the mirror. He doesn’t even know what he’s going to say—he had this whole speech prepared at one point for when he came out, but all those words have evaporated. 

His feet carry him to his dad’s office. He doesn’t smile at the suck-ups greeting him. They really still think getting on his good side is going to make any difference. 

His father’s secretary looks surprised to see him—and he doesn’t blame her either, it’s been a while since he’s shown up. He doesn’t think he’s been here that often since he’s been trusted with the keys to the house. She doesn’t stop him, though. Just gestures into the office when he tells her he wants to speak to his dad. 

He’s alone in the office. Great. Perfect. 

(He half wishes there would be someone else there. Maybe Mr. Seo. He’s always been a nice guy. Little more open-minded than most.)

“Youngjae-yah,” his father says, taken aback at his sudden presence. “You got your results?”

“You’re firing Park Jinyoung?” he shoots back.

The man raises an eyebrow. “You know who Park Jinyoung is?”

“Why don’t you answer my question?” Youngjae crosses his arms, refusing to sit.

His father sighs deeply, plucks his spectacles off and sets them down. “Why do you need to know this, Youngjae? It doesn’t concern you.”

“Let’s say I’m curious to know just how disgusting a man my father is.” His voice is sharp—he knows he’s breathing rather heavily. 

The man’s expression grows darker with every word he says in that tone. “ _Youngjae_. Mind yourself. I don’t appreciate you talking to me like that.”

Youngjae isn’t about to back down. “I didn’t hear an answer to my question. Why are you trying to fire him? What has he done wrong?”

“He’s some friend of yours?” His father links his fingers, disapproving. “I’m not sure how I feel about you hanging around with people like that.”

“Like what, exactly, Dad?”

“I think you know what I mean.”

“Let’s assume I don’t. Why don’t you spell it out for me?”

Neither of them speak for a minute. The phone on the desk rings once, twice before it gets picked up. Choi Sungho mutters a _not now_ into the receiver and sets it back with a click. 

“You want me to spell it out for you? He’s a fucking faggot.” His father rises to his feet at this. “Perverts. Shouldn’t be allowed near children.” 

Youngjae can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Seriously? That argument? That gay people are, what? Pedophiles?” 

“You have something else to say or not? Don’t waste my time.”

“He’s a person just like anyone else,” Youngjae presses, still hesitating. “He works full-time _and_ he’s juggling getting his degree on top of that. Let him live, Dad. He hasn’t done anything to you. Or anyone.”

“He’s giving us a bad name is what he’s doing—”

“And hating gay people isn’t going to give you all a bad name anyway?” He gestures to the rest of the building. “What the hell kind of black magic is your PR doing? It’s not going to last long if I get all this to the right people. You probably don’t know it, but my building is right next to the law majors. They have contacts.”

“You’re walking on thin ice, Youngjae,” the man hisses, seething. “I will not tolerate this any longer.”

“He’s just trying to make a living teaching kids! Why are you being so cruel?”

“Tell me why I should care about those goddamn faggots!”

“ _Because I’m one of them!_ ” He bellows.

Silence. 

“What did you say?” His father’s voice is fainter, more disbelieving, colder.

Youngjae swallows, momentarily terrified of what his dad might do if he repeats that. _Courage,_ he thinks, and takes a deep breath. “I said I’m fucking gay.”

His father’s eyes dart between his, as if searching for a joke. He looks horrified. His mouth opens and closes a few times, at a loss for words, before he says, “No. You can’t be.”

“How would you know that? It’s not like we’ve ever had much of a heart-to-heart, is it? I can’t even remember the last time we had an actual conversation that wasn’t about my grades.”

The man shakes his head. “You’re lying. You’re not…” 

“I used to lie,” he says shakily. “To everyone. To myself. I guess I’m not anymore. I am one hundred percent gay. You can believe what you want to.”

Something changes in his father’s face, something subtle, but at that point, Youngjae knows he’s safe. That his father isn’t going to kick him out or beat him up or get someone else to beat him up. At that point he realizes that he may never get his father’s understanding or his approval from this moment onwards, but that his father loves his only son far too much to hurt him on purpose. This whole thing suddenly became a lot easier.

“Do you think I’m a pervert, too?” He asks, a little gentler, to drive the point home. “You think I’m walking around trying to fuck little kids?” He’s resorting to the same kind of language his father has used and he doesn’t even feel bad about the way the man flinches. He’s vulnerable now, caught off guard, so he dares to speak further. “You’re not going to fire him for this.”

No response. 

“ _Dad_.” Youngjae isn’t going to let this go. “You’re not going to fire someone just because he’s gay. That’s discrimination and it’s illegal and I’m going to do my best to tear this company down if you do that. I don’t need to get a degree in business to know how this works.”

“Youngjae—”

“I don’t want to hear any more of your arguments.” He makes a show of checking his watch. “I’m going to leave now but we’re going to talk again. Later. With Ma there. You’ll come home at some point.” He knows this isn’t over. There are still things he needs to say, about what being gay actually is and about how he’s not still a child but an adult who has a better idea of who he is, that this isn’t some teenage experiment—but he knows that phone is going to ring soon enough, the secretary is going to knock on the door in a minute—he has better things to do than disrupt the daily workings of this place. 

He turns on his heel. Pauses as he reaches for the door handle. 

“And Dad,” he adds, pulling out his marksheet from his bag and waving it, “ninety-three percent.”

**Author's Note:**

> so listen, technically, i'm done with the plot points that i planned a year ago, which is great but i am very much willing to hear what you guys want to know about, like what else do you want me to explore in the pygo!au, i sure don't want to pack this up and put it in my bookshelf because i love it so much! so just let me know whose stories you think are incomplete, or requests for something to happen! let me hear it


End file.
